


love is the frozenist part of the stream (i wouldn't know it)

by jewishfenris



Series: the thunder's rumbled sound [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, alcohol abuse (hints of it), and dorian being very extremely stubborn in his ways, it's basically just bull being very super respectful of dorian and dorian's wishes, mostly this is just very Tender, this is a slow-burn sort of fic, trans dorian, trans dorian is real and he is true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3247085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewishfenris/pseuds/jewishfenris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian could tell by Bull’s voice that he was smiling. He didn’t dare look, though, for fear of his mouth getting ahead of his brain. But, then again, maybe it would turn out for the better. Maybe the large and mighty Iron Bull would reject him and he could pretend it hadn’t hurt as much as it did. He could go back to reading books in the library instead of debating whether or not to watch the Chargers practice their fighting. He could talk about to Varric about the books the dwarf was writing instead of thinking about the way Bull’s back muscles rippled when he rolled his shoulders and just how good he would look with his hands tied behind his back. As if he entertained those thoughts in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> alright this is the first fic i am ever posting on this red website. 
> 
> anyways, this is very much a self-indulgent, coping mechanism-y fic that i wrote in response to bull being written as someone who hits on dorian when dorian obviously does Not want that to happen, but that would definitely not happen if iron bull were a real person. i blame bioware. the iron bull that i write is all about things being consensual; including comments and non-sexual touching.
> 
> my tumblr is jewishfenris n you can always talk to me there. i hope you enjoy !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title of this work is from the moon as a kite by amason

The Iron Bull sat in the corner of the tavern; his favorite place for quieter nights and more private conversations. Dorian walked toward him like the way Bull looked at him didn’t affect him. The shine in his eye made Dorian feel weak in the knees. After all this time, he still cursed at himself for feeling the seemingly gravitational pull.

Dorian thought of Iron Bull’s voice and how it always boomed through him. No matter how quiet Bull spoke, his voice could shake mountains with the sheer power behind it; the confidence genuine in nature. It was certainly unlike the confidence Dorian sported, and every time he and the Iron Bull had a conversation, he told himself that, no matter what, the reason for his hesitation was because of how damn intimidating the spy could be (And just a damn spy he was, wasn’t he. Your father wouldn’t like this, a voice inside his head spit at him). But way, way deep down inside him (somewhere, he knew, because he felt it like the floor was being pulled out from under him) he had come to the realization that this Qunari that he had met and spent so much time with was anything but intimidating. He was abrasive, yes. And, dear Maker, was he strong. But, despite all this, he cared immensely for everyone and respected them in every situation. It shook Dorian down to his damned-

There it was again. He looked at the nearest wall and considered how nice of a place it would be on which to bang his fucking head and -

“Come to sit with me, ‘Vint?” 

It took seconds for Dorian to regain himself. A record, he supposed. And who in their right mind would have to regain themself from words being spoken at them-

“Not quite. I came here to get drunk, and if that requires sitting next to you, I suppose tonight just isn’t my night,” Dorian responded. Blasted Bull with his damn horns and thumbs that could bruise his-

A laugh shook Bull’s chest and Dorian watched with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Suit yourself, Dorian. I’ll be here tending to my own.” 

Wounds, that is. The unspoken truth, the needle in the haystack that wasn’t buried in the haystack but rather in the fleshy palm of your hand. Human flesh breaks easily, he heard Bull’s voice say in his head. He shuddered. He imagined all the ways the Iron Bull could hold his head in his hands and had to sit down on a stool at the prospect. The barkeep poured him a glass. And he drank.

*****

He never knew how much he drank (especially tonight), and he knew his tolerance was extremely high from all those times he drank without a second thought. Just like my father, he sighed to himself. He could feel Bull’s eye on him. Or maybe Bull was standing behind him. He wasn’t sure about that. He wasn’t sure about anything at this current, awful moment in time.

“You look a little worse for wear,” the Iron Bull said from his new position at the bar, a couple seats down from Dorian.

At least he wasn’t close enough that I could just lean over and -. 

Again, he felt a struggle with the words rumbling around in his brain. He rummaged through them hastily.

“Don’t think you can insult my appearance like that without any rebuttal,” he replied, pointing his finger dramatically at Bull and trying not to stumble over his words. 

“I’ll make sure to remember that.”

Dorian could tell by Bull’s voice that he was smiling. He didn’t dare look, though, for fear of his mouth getting ahead of his brain. But, then again, maybe it would turn out for the better. Maybe the large and mighty Iron Bull would reject him and he could pretend it hadn’t hurt as much as it did. He could go back to reading books in the library instead of debating whether or not to watch the Chargers practice their fighting. He could talk about to Varric about the books the dwarf was writing instead of thinking about the way Bull’s back muscles rippled when he rolled his shoulders and just how good he would look with his hands tied behind his back. As if he entertained those thoughts in the first place.

“Anything in particular you’re scoffing about or is it just my pants again?” 

Dorian looked to Bull only to be caught off guard by his arms, of all things.

“Your pants are quite atrocious. I could swear you only wear them to irk me, nowadays.”

Bull’s eye twinkled with something Dorian couldn’t place, his hand half raised with a mug of ale in it. 

“Only to gain your attention,” Bull retorted. It was a soft retort; one with purpose.

Was Dorian sensing … fondness? From the Iron Bull? As they were in a bar, drinking in what was supposed to be solitude? Absolutely not. His mind was playing tricks on him.

“No need for trying any harder,” he gracefully blurted. “I could stand to look at you more if you weren’t wearing those nuisances you call pants.”

He was half expecting Bull to respond with some sort of innuendo, as Dorian had practically set it up for him, but instead Bull just nodded quietly to himself, like he was cataloging it for future reference.  
Dorian honestly could not stand being in the same room as someone whose presence shook him so deeply for no apparent reason (there certainly was a reason but Dorian wasn’t about to admit it, his heart be damned). He started to get up, but stopped dead in his path as soon as his legs started to wobble.

“Woah, there. Need some help?” 

Bull spoke to him like he was a horse and Dorian couldn’t help but roll his eyes and scoff. 

“No, I hardly need it.”

It became quite apparent that he, in fact, did need Bull’s help when he nearly fell flat on his face. The Iron Bull only hovered his hands over Dorian; not quite touching him but enough for the mage to feel the warmth (and also recognize how huge his hands were. Maker, they could wrap around his neck).

“You sure about that, ‘Vint?”

His tone was worried rather patronizing. Dorian wanted to tell Bull how much that meant to him but he couldn’t. He would not risk that. Bull didn’t mean anything to him anyway. He couldn’t.

“You’ve had plenty to drink; I hardly can see how a large, drunk Qunari could help me stay steady,” Dorian lied. 

“Well, I can certainly hold my ale.”

“And I can’t?”

“No. We all know you can. It’s your clothes we worry about.”

Dorian looked to Bull while asking him to elaborate. 

“‘We?’”

“Yes. The Inquisition,” Bull responded, knowing full well why Dorian was stuck on that.

Dorian shook his head as in to protest, but stopped himself. Instead he started walking toward the door, his legs shaking slightly but he knew he could not afford to stay much longer.

“I’ll be going,” he called lightly over his shoulder.

Bull eyed him carefully, out of worry but also appreciation. Dorian hoped the Maker did not intend to punish him so fully.

“I can see that.”

That’s when Dorian’s knees gave out. 

*****

Bull helped Dorian off the ground, then. Finally. And Dorian sighed loudly and promised himself he wouldn’t do that again.

“I told you I don’t need your help,” Dorian spit out, slightly seething. Bull’s hands were seering and Dorian couldn’t move or think or breathe, for that matter. He needed the large hands off of him. Right this minute.

Bull backed off, putting his hands up in a way that signaled to Dorian that he meant no harm.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Bull replied, his voice soft and sincere. Dorian didn’t want to appreciate him for that, but he found that his mind always liked to contradict his wishes.

Dorian tried dusted himself off carefully and glanced at Iron Bull, reluctantly saying, “It’s alright.”

Bull nodded and lowered his hands, standing there and watching the mage dust himself off with shaking hands. Dorian wondered what he was thinking, and that was the point that he wished he could just shut his brain off. 

Dorian didn’t want Bull’s hands on him (well, unless there was any intention there, and everyone knew Bull did not have any intentions without the other party explicitly telling him they wanted in). He didn’t want to be near him. (He wanted to be next to him, right next to him. Laying on top of him. He wanted to feel Bull’s heart shake in his chest).

His hands moved upwards, going to hold his own throbbing head in them, but instead he reached for Bull, who did not react until he was sure it was alright. Damn him. Damn him and his respectful hands. Dorian wishes Bull would have the audacity to tell him what he wants; to draw it out of him like everyone else had. They were both so stubborn and Dorian wanted nothing more than to stop wishing he could have something that he could never keep in his heart, previously deserted but for one man that he had left behind in Tevinter. 

Dorian stumbled forward. His head crashed into Bull’s chest and he took the impact. Bull’s hands rushed to steady him gently.

“I’ve got you,” Bull rumbled. “Let’s get you up to your quarters.”

“I don’t want you in my quarters,” Dorian half-growled, half-slurred.

“I’ll let you down right outside. I won’t even look in.”

Dorian was subjected to accept, and the Iron Bull knew the best way to get Dorian back safely was to carry him. So, he lifted Dorian up and carried him. 

“I’m not some drunk bride that you can whisk away, you know,” Dorian said, his head resting on Bull’s chest. He was tired. He could certainly hold his alcohol but he hadn’t been sleeping for the past three nights, so he ended up here.

“Oh, trust me, I understand. Just wanna make sure you get back to your room safe.”

Dorian frowned. This always happened. He always met someone and they pretended to care long enough to use him for his looks and then they would discard him just as quickly as they had come. He didn’t believe whatever anyone else said about “respectful Bull”. Especially the woman in the tavern that had said something akin to, “Oh he was so polite when he was fucking me into the mattress”. All of that had no intrinsic value. Everyone Dorian had met thus far with intentions towards him was the same. 

And, at that moment, he still thought of the pressure he felt building inside his chest. This would be the end of him for sure. 

Bull continued to carry him to Dorian's quarters. They went up the stairs and turned the corner, and Dorian wanted every bit to make his mouth stop wanting to say silly, incongruous things that he would certainly regret in the morning. Sometimes his words were too soft over the careful sound of Bull walking.

"There you go," Bull said, placing Dorian down on his feet. "I didn't know you were such a lightweight."

The joke was that he wasn't. He wasn't and Bull understood this, and the late nights Dorian stayed out. He understood Dorian’s need for escape; he understood a lot about Dorian. More than he could ever talk to Dorian about.

Dorian patted Bull’s chest lightly, and then pushed him back. Well, he really was incredibly tired and incredibly drunk. He didn’t think he’d ever been this completely smashed, and he regretted it, especially when he decided to glance at Bull’s face. A soft expression was lightly pushing at the Iron Bull’s features. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dorian nearly snarled. 

The Bull’s face fell slightly; he was confused. He looked at Dorian’s eyes, searching but controlled, and said, “Like what?” 

“Like I mean something more to you than my attractiveness. Like you have considered keeping me to yourself,” Dorian explained, full of bitter, drunken laughter.

He was angry. He wanted to know what Bull felt for him, and he knew it wasn’t deep. It was ever deep; he had learned this early on. Men in relationships together never lasted long. They were unnatural. They would never be able to make a commitment to each other. Qunari didn’t even make life-long commitments to anything other than the Qun. Pathetic, Dorian thought. I’m pathetic.

The Iron Bull’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“You can’t possibly know what I want from you. Plus, I respect you more than that. I would never put that on you, but I can only control my face so much,” Bull responded, truthfully. Apologetically.

Dorian rolled his eyes.

“And why would you want anything from me in the first place? You have your very own tevinter that would already die for you. You don’t need any bothersome mage like me ruining you delicate Qunari sensibilities.”

“Trust me, there is plenty of times when we could have this conversation other than this moment. We’ll continue this in the morning, if you wish. But for the meantime, you need to get some rest.”

Dorian huffed, his arms crossed. He wanted to hit Bull’s chest and tell him just how much his mind has been wandering. Not even the good kind of wandering, mostly. The softer kind. He hated it. The last time he felt like this was - well. He doesn’t like to think about the last time. 

“Alright, fine. I will go into my quarters and consider why it is that you don’t want to have this conversation,” Dorian said, turning already. His back was away from Bull and he wished the man would leave.

“Okay, ‘Vint. If you need anything, let me know. You know where to find me.”

When Dorian heard Bull walking away, he rushed into his quarters. As soon he couldn’t hear any more footsteps, he leaned his head against the door with a thump, his fists following suit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian sat quietly. He understood the gravity of what was being said. He understood the softer intentions of it, and the Iron Bull's palm was face up on the table. Dorian wanted to accept, more than anything in the world. So he did.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Dorian maybe sort of blushed. But that wasn't important. What was important was the fact that Bull did not know how to take Dorian's clothes off. 
> 
> "Oh, quit your moping. I'll do that," Dorian said upon seeing Bull's expression. He knocked away Bull’s hands and started undoing the various buckles. "I wouldn't expect you to know how to take clothes off since you hardly wear any."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one gets. pretty explicit i must say. i'm not too good to writing nsfw scenes so, bear with me. i did the minimum explaining of the actions and it's more about what either of them are feeling. also, there's coming out in this chapter ? dorian is a trans man and so it deals with him having to tell iron bull that. enjoy.

The words being spoken to him (at him) were ones his brain could not understand. Big mistake, a voice deep within him whispered. He had assumed all that was said was a simple greeting, but Dorian couldn't, for the life of him, understand anything outside of himself for the time being.

He was supposed to be alert and ready when he was summoned to discuss a matter with Josephine, but at this time he was anything but alert and ready. It wasn't even the hangover; it was the feeling of Bull carrying him up the stairs. How in the world did he let himself agree to such an absurd thing; he was not child, and certainly not any lower in status than Bull. He wanted to curse at himself for that, but for also being rude to Josephine who was trying to talk to him.

"I can see that you seem busy. Perhaps another time," Josephine said, reorganizing her papers idly. 

"Oh, Maker, I'm sorry Jose. We will talk about this when I am .. more suited to the task."

Josephine glanced up at him. 

"Perhaps Bull can help with that," she responded. 

Oh no. Oh no. Absolutely not. He would not have anyone sensing his feelings for the spy of all people in this damned Inquisition. 

Josephine was so intuitive. She knew what people were thinking just by the way they moved. She was good at gossip this way, but would never betray the trust of someone whom she was close with. Dorian respected her for that. He supposed she was respectful yet intimidating in a way he was never accustomed to. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he retorted. His tone was high and mighty, just like he was trained. 

Josephine knew better, however, and brushed his comment off, knowing that Dorian could be offended by discussion of more private matters, especially in regards to a certain Qunari. 

They said goodbye to one another and Dorian was on his way back to his quarters. He felt dizzy and quite feverish. He supposed that could also have something to do with the thought of the Iron Bull and his axe and -. And -. And how much Dorian absolutely did not want to show Bull exactly how demanding he could be. 

And how much Dorian absolutely did not want to find Bull waiting for him outside his quarters.

"Well, I see you have come without any invitation," Dorian commented, yet as he entered his room, he did not close the door behind him.

Bull left the door open, standing near the door as an act of respect. Dorian was grateful yet utterly winded at himself for feeling anything but disgust in the first place.

"I thought it would be easier to discuss as soon as we could," the Iron Bull said, carefully. 

He was so careful about everything. Dorian thought about this and he tried to figure out a way to respond. Bull held himself in a position meant to be non-controlling; submissive. Dorian's nature was contradictory to how he felt when he noticed this detail. 

"I wasn't aware there was anything to discuss."

It was defensive, but there was hardly enough bite for Dorian expect Bull to back away. 

"My goal is to be as respectful as I can, Dorian. I mean no harm. I only want to bring up the fact that I carried you last night, maybe slightly without your permission."

Dorian was taken aback. So the Iron Bull cared that Dorian might feel uncomfortable about what happened last night? Not that anything even did happen. His mouth was open as he almost said something, but he lost all thoughts as Bull spoke.

"I can't claim that your self-destructive behaviors are in any way fueled by your resentment of me, but I can at least try to help. I don't know your boundaries, but if you are interested in this - in me - then we will need to discuss this." 

Still utterly baffled, Dorian held his arms in a crossed position, looking at Bull, trying to comprehend him. 

Dorian finally replied with, "What makes you think you're so unique that I would want you in my bed?" 

The Iron Bull smiled crookedly, in a gentle way. He knew well how stubborn Dorian was. Dorian himself knew how stubborn he was, but he was too stubborn to admit it. 

"Your needs are just, if not more, important than mine. I didn't mean to assume that you would want a sexual relationship. I'm just letting you know that the offer is on the table. I won't make any advances unless you tell me that you want this - me. And it can be in any way you would like. Romantic, sexual. Even if you would just like a friend," Bull explained. 

Again, Dorian responded defensively.

“If you want to start some kind of … ‘relationship’ with me, you might as well give up the idea while you’re ahead.”

The Iron Bull smiled lightly at him. It didn't mock him. He was being genuine.

“Okay. If you ever change your mind, just let me know,” he replied, standing there for a moment and then moving to go out the door.

Dorian imagines a life in which he would be brave. Brave? What is brave? he asks himself, incredulous. He imagines another life in which he would not even be in this position. He watched the Iron Bull walk away and wished that he could do something to make himself believe this wasn’t just going to be casual.

He let himself feel something for only a split second, and even in that split second he would not allow himself to call it longing.

*****

Dorian wallowed in himself again, and returned to the tavern. He supposed he could repeat the action of drinking his sorrows. 

Sometimes he was overly dramatic when he was upset, but when he was really upset, he kept it to himself. Only those who knew him would recognize the destructive patterns that he would get back into. And he guessed that this time is was Bull who could sense something was wrong. Yet, he gave Dorian the space that was required. He would give Dorian space until Dorian would not need space, if ever. Dorian told himself that it was just because the Iron Bull would not start a relationship. He wouldn’t want the blame to be placed on him when it didn’t work out, because nothing ever worked out, did it?

Yet, somehow, Dorian felt himself moving to sit down next to the Bull. Or, rather, across from him but down a little so that he wouldn’t have to meet his eyes if he stared straight. 

The Iron Bull flagged over the barkeep and got both of them some drinks.

“Rough day again?”

Dorian looked at Bull. There were many ways he could answer this question.

“It’s not much different from other days, is it?”

“Well,” said Bull. “Just because we have the same routines doesn’t mean we don’t feel differently depending on the circumstances.”

“Today has been ‘rough’, then,” he replied. He smiled at the barkeep as their drinks were set down.

“Anything in particular causing that?”

Dorian sighed widely. So wide a sigh that it could hold the damn sea. And the tavern musician started up a song.

“Nevermind that,” he said, dismissing his issues with a wave of his hand.

Bull respected his wish, as always, and Dorian wished he would push, as always. Instead of doing anything using his brain properly, he slammed back his drink gracefully (as gracefully as one could) and went to stand up. 

“Dorian,” Bull said. It was a proposition. A question. 

Dorian nodded at him. And the self-hate came after.

He moved to sit back down, not exactly sure where to start. And then he started talking.

“I would first like to say that I do not like not being in control, and I know you prefer to be in control. If that doesn’t work for you, then we should stop now.”

Dorian was facing the Iron Bull and he could see the large man’s face break into a sort of sly smile.

“You’d be surprised,” the Bull replied.

And Dorian absolutely did not feel a shiver run through his spine at the thought of controlling the great expanse of him.

“But, seriously, if you want to start something, we have to build more than just boundaries. We have to build trust. I have to know you and understand where your limits are. I can only do so if you tell me what you want,” Bull spoke out.

Dorian was clearly not expecting Bull to want that much from him. He could hardly tell the Bull that he wanted to speak to him. He could hardly tell himself that it was okay to want anything.

Bull's face was soft, and it stayed soft; patient. The reality was that Dorian could not stomach any of this; not the carefulness with which the Iron Bull treated the situation, nor the determination of his own self control.

"You. .." he started off. "...would like me me to talk to you about this? To tell you what I want? To tell you what I don't even know myself?"

The Iron Bull blinked. 

"I'm also here to help you figure out what that is," he said. "If you would like that." 

Dorian sat quietly. He understood the gravity of what was being said. He understood the softer intentions of it, and the Iron Bull's palm was face up on the table. Dorian wanted to accept, more than anything in the world. So he did.

He put his hand in Bull's. The Bull raised their hands to his lips and kissed the back of Dorian's hand. Dorian felt a twinge of guilt among the flurry of affection, moving through him like the feelings he had once had for a man named Felix.

"I still don't know what you want."

Dorian laughed once, bitterly, and took his hand away from Bull's.

"Qunari sure are demanding. Has anyone ever taught you anything other than how to swing an axe around wildly?"

"I know a few things about caring for people, and knowing what they need."

"If you know what I need, then why ask what I want?"

"Needing and wanting are separate. Sometimes there's an overlap, but most of the time, there's something there that I can't pick out," he said to Dorian.

"Ah, admitting you don't know all? That's a step in the right direction, I suppose. There are still several more miles to go."

The Iron Bull smiled in a humorous way. Something in Dorian fluttered. Why? He knew but he would lie.

"What are you smiling about? Are you thinking of weapons, or ripping people's hearts out?"

"Ah, c'mon, 'Vint. You know how gentle I am with people's hearts." 

Oh, Dorian knew, alright. He wouldn't admit it. But he knew. 

"I have seen you be more gentle with dragons," Dorian sneered.

Bull laughed deep in his chest. The rumble of that could shake a whole house down, the brightness could build it up again. No - this Qunari was only for destruction. Nothing else. He could not possibly be gentle with me, Dorian thought. He could not possibly treat me with care.

They sat there, Bull drinking and Dorian trying to settle his thoughts. 

Bull breathed out through his nose. "Goodnight, Dorian," he said significantly as he got up from the table. "You know where to find me.

Dorian reflexively reached out to him. 

"Don't," he softly got out. "Don't leave just yet."

"I'll stay as long as you need me." 

There was more behind it than the face value of the words. Dorian hoped he wasn't reading too much into it. It sounded like he was trying to get to Dorian in the least overt way possible. Vishante kaffas. How he knew what Dorian needed. How he knew how to get Dorian to feel.

"You ... say that with significance," his mouth seemed to run ahead of him.

"It's because I mean that. I'm here as long as you'll have me."

"You say that like I’ll have you."

"I don't know what you want, Dorian. I only know what I can give you."

All this back and forth and the Iron Bull was still patient with him; he still cared that he respected Dorian. Dorian didn't think he would be able to take that for much longer, but he couldn't ask Bull to leave. He wouldn't.

"I would like to start something with you," he finally said, after grueling moments of silence.

"Alright. How would you like to start?"

It was so easy, yet Dorian couldn't help but let out a small laugh in the form of a sigh. 

"I want to spend tonight with you."

Did he ever in a million years think he would say that aloud? No. But did he regret it? Maybe. Maybe he would wake up and the Iron Bull would tell him "thanks for the night, but that's it". 

"I'll do anything you want me to if you just ask," the Iron Bull responded. Lightly, like the way he was looking at Dorian. 

"I want to go to your room, if that's alright."

"That's more than alright."

And so they went to the Iron Bull's room. Dorian stood in the room while Bull closed the door. He moved closer to Dorian, putting his hand gently on Dorian's face. He leaned forward slightly, and Dorian moved the rest of the way. He was on the tips of his toes, and Iron Bull leaned down as far as he could. Dorian's hands moved to undo the Iron Bull's harness. His hands were shaking. He was nervous. He needed to tell him but he didn't know how.

Iron Bull looked at Dorian and held both of the mage's hands in his own. 

"You're safe here. We only have to go as far as you want. Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to leave and I will.”

Dorian nodded in understanding (though worry of his safety not exactly why he was shaking), and Bull brought Dorian’s hands up to his mouth so he could kiss them. 

Dorian couldn't handle too much of that. He wanted to tell Bull that he didn't need softness, that he wasn't used to it. That everyone that had ever fucked him was not there to stay. That he couldn't possibly expect any more from a Qunari spy. 

"What's on your mind, 'Vint?" 

He thought. What was on his mind? Could he bring that up? In the middle of everything? Maybe then he wouldn't even get a fuck in. Just Bull laughing at him, making him leave. 

But he also knew Bull would never do that. He wished he would be cruel. He wished his eyes would stop threatening to tear up. 

The Qunari was patient. It made Dorian think, if only for a split second, that he could deserve such treatment. 

"I am not permitted to talk about it."

"And who said that?"

No one, Dorian supposed. But himself. His hands moved gently out of Bull's hands, and he placed them on the wide chest in front of him. His fingers splayed out on the grey skin. It was weather-worn, yet soft. His hands moved up to Iron Bull's neck, then held his face. The Iron Bull looked at him, moving his own hands over Dorian's. 

"Don't be so soft with me, Bull."

The Iron Bull laughed softly, turning his head slightly to kiss Dorian's palm.

"What else would you have me do?"

Dorian let his hands slide down, and when they reached Bull's chest, he let his fingernails graze over the skin.

"We both know how rough you can be."

The reasons Dorian would not allow anyone to be soft with him were many. The reasons why Dorian would not let the Iron Bull be soft with him were because he supposed he wanted to break. And Dorian could just imagine Bull saying, I would never break you. He wanted to scoff.

"If you truly want this, we will still start off slow. You will have a safe word. If it ever gets too much -if you ever want me to stop- just say it and I will stop," the Iron Bull said. 

He did scoff this time. He was nervous.

"Do you take me as some sort of fragile Tevinter?"

"Exactly the opposite," the Iron Bull responded. "In all seriousness, I care that you can say stop and I will stop. I want to make sure you're safe and that I don't hurt you." 

But Dorian wanted Bull to hurt him. He wanted to not be treated with kindness. The reason he even agreed to this in the first place was because, regardless of his softer feelings for Bull, he could ask him to be harsh with him. That's what he needed, after all. That's what he deserved.

"I'm ... not what you're used to," he admitted. How else could he tell him? How else could he bring up the topic. 

Bull looked at him, questioning. "What do you mean by that?" 

Dorian thought about how to say this. It wasn't necessarily anything that Dorian liked to tell people. It was the main reason he had to make sure he had spoken about the topic before he had even proposed sleeping with someone. Most people were okay, if not a little shocked. There were weirder things around this town. 

"I'm transgender," Dorian said, his voice maybe not as strong as it had been. 

The Iron Bull said a soft "oh" and then nodded his head.

"If that's a problem for you, I can just go," he started. He took his hands away from Iron Bull and started to back up. 

"Why would it ever be a problem?" 

And, oh. That was one thing Dorian wasn't expecting. He was always turned down, called names. Shamed. And here he was, with a damned Ben-Hassrath, being accepted. 

Dorian turned to face the Iron Bull. 

"Has it been a problem for others?" 

The Iron Bull looked worried, but also like he knew all too well the discrimination and humiliation trans people faced, especially when they were as attractive as Dorian. 

"It has been a problem for most people. I generally don't tell just anyone." 

"Thank you for telling me. I won't tell anyone. I accept you as you are. I accept you as you will be." 

He then moved to sit down on the side of the bed, turning his head to look at Dorian with a question in his eye. Dorian walked over to him and stood in front of him. The Iron Bull's big hands moved to sit warmly on Dorian's hips. Bull's fingers peaked underneath Dorian's vest, touching the skin over Dorian's hipbones. He looked up, a gleam in his eye, and Dorian held Bull's face in his hands and moved his head down to kiss the smile off the spy's face. 

"I want to see all of you, but I understand if you're not comfortable with that." 

"I am quite proud of my body, thank you." 

He said it proudly and in a way that Iron Bull could tell that there was something behind it. Like he was trying to prove something to himself. 

"You should be," he replied, his hand wandering back to the small of Dorian's back. He smiled up at Dorian. 

Dorian maybe sort of blushed. But that wasn't important. What was important was the fact that Bull did not know how to take Dorian's clothes off. 

"Oh, quit your moping. I'll do that," Dorian said upon seeing Bull's expression. He knocked away Bull’s hands and started undoing the various buckles. "I wouldn't expect you to know how to take clothes off since you hardly wear any." 

"Excuse you, I have taken off plenty of clothes off. Granted, not off myself, but I know how to take clothes off very well. Just not this Tevinter garb." 

Dorian made an exasperated noise. "I hardly expect you to understand fashion, either.”

"You call this fashion? No wonder 'Vints are so unpleasant." 

"Do you mind quieting down with that nonsense and using your mouth for something that both you and I would enjoy more?” 

He had his vest and undershirt off by this time, and the Iron Bull whistled. Bull’s hands moved back to Dorian’s hips and then up even further so that his hands cupped Dorian’s chest. He leaned forward and kissed at them. Dorian leaned more into Bull as he kissed the center of Dorian’s chest. 

“You’re beautiful,” the Iron Bull said against Dorian’s skin. 

Dorian was about to reply with a retort, but Bull started sucking marks onto his breasts. There would be bruises there; the skin was already turning red and splotchy in the best way. Bull leaned back and looked at Dorian. 

“You ever been eaten out?’ 

Dorian looked at Bull, blinking. His face was flushed and hot. “Oh, Maker, maybe once? The man obviously did not know what he was doing. It ended up being quite disastrous.”

“Well you’re lucky that I do.”

Dorian laughed once. Bull got up and picked Dorian up, putting him on his back on the bed and moving to undo his pants. “Finally, something I know how to take off you.”

“I would hardly put it past you to tear off my clothes,” Dorian said, a bit winded.

“If I did that, I wouldn’t expect to being graced with your presence in the future.” Bull finished taking off Dorian’s pants. “And we can’t have that.” He leaned down and kissed down Dorian’s body, lingering here and there to make a mark. Bull was more than pleased with the noises he was getting out of Dorian’s mouth. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Dorian was breathing more heavily. “I should’ve guessed you’d be an utter tease. Never straightforward, are you?”

“Where’s the fun in being straightforward?” He nipped at Dorian’s left hipbone. Dorian drew in a breath loudly through his nose and moved underneath Bull. 

Drawing Dorian’s legs apart, Bull pushed Dorian up more so that he could bend down and kiss the insides of Dorian’s thighs. 

“Vishante kaffas! I’ll set fire to your bedsheets if you don’t get on with it!”

Of course the Iron Bull laughed at this, but he obeyed Dorian’s wishes and put his mouth right-

“Dear Maker,” Dorian whispered, his back arching off the bad and his hands on Bull’s horns. Bull wasn’t kidding when he said he was good at this. He knew were to move his tongue exactly, and all Dorian could get out were curses and groans. A thin layer of ice spread over the first half of Bull’s horns; he couldn’t feel it but he sure heard the freezing sound. He groaned against Dorian, and Dorian pushed himself against Bull’s face. Bull moved to get a finger inside of the mage. 

“There. That- right. Fuck-,” Dorian tried to get out. Words certainly weren’t coming easy; he could feel so much and Bull moved his finger inside of him and he swore he couldn’t fucking breathe. And then, suddenly, there was another finger and how in the hell was Bull so fucking good at this.

Bull’s fingers worked in him and he didn’t know how it could be this good without any help from magic. All these rumors Dorian had been hearing and now, finally, he saw it for himself. Or, rather, felt it. It was too much but not enough in the least. He decided more was better than less.

“More. I need more.” Dorian’s back was arching off the bed periodically as he moved with Bull’s tongue. Bull looked up at him (and what a fucking sight Dorian was) and he pressed himself into the bed for friction. He added a third finger, as per Dorian’s request, and he let out the most beautiful groan that would ever grace Bull’s ears (for now, that is). 

Then he drew away altogether, and Dorian grabbed for him. 

"I didn't say stop I said more," he groaned, frustrated.

The Iron Bull laughed at this too. "I knew you'd be impatient in bed too." 

Dorian was offended. "I hardly asked you to entertain thoughts of me in bed." 

"I was very respectful."

"Oh, damn you. Just come back over here."

Bull got up from the bed and undid his pants, looking at Dorian laying on the bed. He thought about how Dorian was even prettier than he could've even imagined. No imagination could possibly do the mage justice. Dorian would be proud to know he thought that of him. 

Dorian watched as Bull took off his pants, inhaling sharply when he was completely naked. And what he saw certainly did not disappoint. Dorian couldn’t stop looking.

"Enjoying the view?" The Iron Bull smiled while posing. 

"There is quite a lot to view," Dorian replied, sitting up and waving Bull over. "You shouldn't keep an inpatient man waiting." 

Dorian was inpatient but he also had a nagging feeling that, after all this was done, he would still sneak out in the morning. He wouldn't allow himself the hurt of Bull waking up and telling him to leave. He had decided this beforehand; before either of them had taken any of their clothes off. It would creep up every now and then, reminding him that even while he felt comfortable, it would all be taken away just as abruptly as it had been given. 

The Iron Bull pushed Dorian onto his back again, his body covering Dorian's. They both knew the size difference well. Dorian supposed it was one of the main reasons he liked Bull so much. If I could conquer him, Dorian would think, I could conquer anyone. 

For now he was resigned to Bull conquering him. He tried to think of another chance he would get, but he didn't know how he could ever get everything he could want from Bull. Even after years he would never have what he wanted. It would only be casual, if that.

Dorian's knees were pulled up to chest-level, yet again, and he looked at Bull as the Qunari slowly entered him. As soon as Bull looked up at Dorian, he had to look away. The false sense of intimacy couldn't be toyed with. Dorian would take it for reality when it could never and surely would never be that. 

Bull stopped periodically, and asked if Dorian was okay for more. Dorian would always nod enthusiastically yet impatiently, and Bull would continue. It took a little while but Bull didn't want to hurt Dorian. When Dorian was fully around Bull, he arched his back and rocked slightly, trying to get Bull to move. 

"I got you, 'Vint," was Bull's reply to Dorian's soft demands of just fuck me. Yet he still started slow. No matter how much Dorian resented the speed with which they carried on, he was still already shaking slightly. Bull smoothed his hands over Dorian's sides, wishing their varying sizes would allow him to kiss the mage. 

"Bull," Dorian warned. 

The Iron Bull cupped Dorian's breasts again, and Dorian arched up into his big hands. 

"What do you want, Dorian," Bull warned back, moving his hips so slowly that Dorian had to stop himself from reflexively grinding into him to get some feeling more than small movements. 

"Fasta vass," Dorian growled. "I want you to- ah- stop trying to make me beg for your cock." 

"Begging and telling me what you want are two completely different things," Bull said, stopping his movement entirely. His own thighs were shaking but dammit if he was going to let Dorian not tell him exactly what he wanted Bull to do. He massaged Dorian's breasts in his hands as he waited, and Dorian practically squirmed underneath him. 

"Festis bei umo canavarum," he groaned in frustration, his arm resting on his forehead. "Just fuck me." 

Bull moved his hips slightly. Dorian tried to stop himself from making any noise, to no avail. "Not good enough," Bull said through his teeth. His self control was impeccable, considering the current situation. "How?"

"Hard. And as soon as possible or, so help me Maker, you will find your bed on fire and I know how much you would resent me for that," Dorian threatened. He rolled his eyes when Bull didn't move. "Please," he said in a mocking voice. 

He got his wish. Bull started slow again, gaining momentum until Dorian was shaking again and only his head made contact with the bed most moments. Bull kept his hands on Dorian's chest. 

"You're better than I could've ever imagined," Bull groaned at Dorian. "The way you feel around me is incomparable." 

For good measure, Dorian tightened around Bull and the Qunari nearly roared in approval. The hands on Dorian's chest would leave bruises and he shivered at the thought. Dorian was loud in bed. Extremely loud. And he cursed in Tevene in between deep groans of approval. 

"That's it," Bull encouraged. His eye was steady on Dorian. Dorian's skin burned with the feeling of being so thoroughly approved of. Dorian arched his back again and met Bull's hips with his own, and that sent Bull into a faster pace. "Now that's how you fuck." 

"Removed those crude comments from your dirty mouth and fuck me harder," Dorian demanded. 

"Whatever you say, 'Vint." 

Bull did as he was asked and Dorian was so overwhelmed with feeling that he didn't know what word were coming out if his mouth, and if they even meant anything in the first place. He felt so unbearably close to someone he would have never allowed himself to be close to just years ago. He felt hotness creeping into him, even hotter than before. His legs were hardly steady. Bull put his arm around Dorian to support him. Dorian never wanted Bull to stop. He wanted to feel this all the time. He wanted to let himself be present like this. 

"Venhedis," Dorian moaned, his whole body shaking with release. 

"Yeah 'Vint, you look so good. You feel so good." Bull's words worked in Dorian and made his skin hotter. He reached his hands up and Bull held them while slipped out of him, letting himself go with a groan. He leaned down, his forehead resting on Dorian's chest, mindful of his own horns. Dorian's hand gripped the back of Bull's neck, and Bull's hands were holding the sides of Dorian's torso.

Bull pressed a kiss to Dorian's chest. Dorian wanted to tell Bull to stop being so damn soft with him. He wasn't going to break or anything. He was just going to leave before he was left. 

Getting up off of Dorian, Bull felt the mage’s hand fall away. He went to his closet and got a clean cloth, knowing how much Dorian would complain about how dirty they were and how he would need a damn bath. A bath wasn’t such a bad idea, though. 

When Bull turned around, Dorian was sitting at the edge of the bed. He moved to collected his clothes, but Bull went over to him, kneeling down at the side of the bed so they could look at each other. 

“You don’t need to leave,” Bull told him. He was sincere. Dorian might’ve even convinced himself that he saw some sadness in Bull’s expression. “It’s alright if you wanted this to be just a one-time thing, but in all honesty, I’d rather talk about where to go from here than just leaving it at this.”

Dorian looked at Bull. His expression was hard to read, but Bull knew the complications behind everything. He knew there was more that he couldn’t possibly know about Dorian. And Dorian knew so fully that he would never forgive himself for leaving this opportunity. He thought about how his father might react. He thought about his mother crying when all her careful breeding was for nothing. He thought of Felix. He thought of everyone he had left behind, and suddenly he knew that he didn’t need to run. If he got hurt, so be it, but he trusted Bull, or at least wanted to trust him. That feeling couldn’t be taken for granted. Dorian let himself feel everything. He let his eyes tear up. He even let Bull hold his face. How strange it was that he felt like he could move on from the deepness in himself. How strange to be here, in this unforgettable moment, when he felt like maybe, just maybe, he deserved the softness with which Bull treated him. When he felt like he could let himself be cared for.

“Will you let yourself stay?” 

The question was simple; soft like the grass he walked barefoot in when no one was watching. He would let himself feel safe, if only for the night. If only until he fell again. He would let himself stay. So he nodded, and the Iron Bull kissed his forehead, and they lay together, and Dorian could feel the rumbling of Bull’s heart in his chest. And he felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.  
> as for myself
> 
> less snake than angel  
> less angel than man  
> how come i to this  
> serpent’s understanding?  
> watching creation from  
> a hood of leaves  
> i have foreseen the evening  
> of the world.  
> as she as she  
> the breast of Yourself  
> separated out and made to bear,  
> as sure as her returning,  
> i too am blessed with  
> the one gift You cherish;  
> to feel the living move in me  
> and to be unafraid.
> 
> from "brothers" by lucille clifton
> 
> i don't know why but i was reminded of this stanza in this poem. reading it feels like dorian (or at least, the way i characterize him), especially the last few lines. it's more of where dorian wants to be than a reflection of where he is. i see it as him talking to himself when he was younger, after he's grown up more. after he's accepted himself and the way that he is. i felt like that fit at the end of this one. i'd love to hear feedback from any of you who read this ? it's important to me to hear that i've done an okay job with my writing. my tumblr is jewishfenris.


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